Natural
by Nanomemes
Summary: Iori decides to relax for an evening. [COMPLETE]


_first sex scene?_

_sorta._

_I'm actually trying to give Yag character progression as the timeline runs._

* * *

You're a Natural, aren't you?

The guilt's been there so long, it doesn't bother you anymore. It's like a splinter lodged in flesh. It's been stuck so long that's it's a part of you now. In fact, that guilt...it means nothing to you. You can stroll down the streets and enjoy life like everyone else. The blood on your hands? It doesn't bother you one bit.

Not while you're awake, anyhow.

But you're _awake_ now, so you don't think about it. All you're concerned about is the smooth flesh pressed against yours. It's soft isn't it? And it's nice. But you know, a normal person wouldn't be thinking about sinking their nails through that fragile little ribcage…

But it's not something you want to do tonight, right? Especially since society says it bad to kill… except when it isn't. What makes her so different from all the others? From those in Brazil, the ones in Iceland… or the godforsaken countries in Africa? Huh?

Nothing at all.

But go on, be as gentle as you can.

Fake it as long as you can, they might believe you for an evening… but you won't. It's difficult to lie to yourself. You know _you_ better than anyone. You've always been like this. Fantastically cruel. Your conscious is barely alive, you don't need it. You've drowned it in blood. It can only wake when you sleep.

'Cause your heart is stone. You don't feel a thing, not anymore.

You can do whatever the hell you want.

Isn't it great?

* * *

Hah.

You're hopeless.

You're fixated. Like some sort of addict.

Look at you. Any other guy would be thinking about how great it is to fuck a hot chick, but here you are considering how easy it would be to pierce that white skin. You're getting all excited at the thought of slick wet warmth trickling between your fingers. Nobody's here, and if you don't cut too deep, she'll live.

No? Maybe in a couple of minutes then.

'Cause you know what you want.

And you're strong enough to take.

* * *

Remember when you blamed Riot for this? It made sense after all. It was your bloodthirsty split personality. _Naturally_ all these thoughts came from him, right? You could shift the blame, easy. It wasn't your fault. You're a victim, just like that person you split into four pieces and reduced to white dust on the cracked pavement.

But now, you know it's all you.

You spent a whole year without it. The loneliness drove you wild. You discovered the real you in those macabre woods. You've found your natural state, and it scared you.

But you're brave.

You've embraced it.

And for one year, you tore your way through everyone who stood in your way while you chased your flames. You enjoyed it too, didn't you. The adrenaline was addicting. Victory caused your cold heart to beat. You stormed through like a warhorse, itching for battle, itching to crush it's enemies beneath cloven hooves.

The smell of blood. The crunch of bone… that was Victory.

And you lusted cravenly after it.

* * *

You're worse without the Riot, you know? You thought the tendency toward violence wasn't yours, so you fought it with every fibre of your being… but now…

Heh.

Imagine.

What kind of person is tempered by a co-habiting demon?!

You're ridiculous.

An absolute nut.

A complete psycho.

A real natural.

* * *

She smells nice, doesn't she? And her neck is cool against your cheek. You press your lips against the crook of her neck and it takes everything you have not to sink your teeth in.

Aren't you disgusted? Do you feel bad? It's not your fault, right? You didn't choose this. You can't just _decide_ one day to love one thing, and hate the other. You are who you are… and everyone is unique in their own special way. That's what people keep saying. '_Don't change for anyone'. 'Stand up for yourself'. 'Don't let society dictate your identity'. 'Be independent'._

So go ahead.

It's not like you owe the world anything.

You already _live_ for them. Your entire life to seal Orochi. Seven Billion people's lives ride on your shoulders… so surely they can forgive if you take this _one. _

Because you just _know_ the tang of blood and the crunch of bone will make this _so_ much better.

So don't hold back.

Relax.

Return to your _natural_.

Just for one night.

Don't worry.

If the world won't forgive you, it can burn.

* * *

_So yeah, I listened to 'Natural' by Imagine Dragons and I wrote this two hours later. Don't judge me. March Of Skeletons's title is based off the Lyrics of 'Pretender' by Foo Fighters. Soley was also written on music. I also wrote 'Hell' Listening to Soley's album._

_Do you guys music when you write?_

_Also, at this point in the story, Yag is pretty much a serial Murder. :[_

_I have no idea who the narrator is don't ask_


End file.
